You Know What I Hate?

Well, that title is rhetorical because there is an ever-rotating laundry and “honey-do” list of things I hate. Add to that:

• Crowds
• Dirty pans that sit on the stove for three days (and especially that grill pan that I cannot use the scrubber on… UGH)
• Touching surfaces in public (doors, revolving doors, railings, elevator buttons)
• Elevators, for that matter
• Slow drivers in the PASSING lane (this is mostly an Ohio problem, so thank you, Pennsylvania)
• The Apple sales associate who got that damn Paul McCartney Christmas song stuck in my head all weekend

But I really, REALLY hate that I can’t be an angry bitch face to AB.

I get mad naturally because he wants to put needless speakers all over the freaking apartment when there’s things that NEED to be done, such as scrubbing the bathtub — or laundry has piled up and, well, it’s Football Sunday — what woman wouldn’t? And I’m exceptionally short and unpleasant when I HAVEN’T HAD BREAKFAST(!!!) while attempting to play Frogger with every third person who walks-five-steps-and-stops in The Strip. But when I calm down (just a bit) to ask what his stupid intentions are, he puts on this innocent, smirky grin, as if to say, “You’re so funny when you try to be mean” instead of fearful of me being mad.

And I can’t stop the breaking smile while trying to reprimand his inane decisions.

DAMMIT! Why won’t he let me be a bitch?

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